<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>don't let it fool you by midnights</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453242">don't let it fool you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnights/pseuds/midnights'>midnights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Obviously), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonfires, Brokeback Mountain if it had a happy ending and was about arthur and john, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Pining, Pre-Canon, Young Arthur Morgan, and was also... totally different, john has a crush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:47:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnights/pseuds/midnights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>dutch sends arthur and john to a ranch in big valley to tame a herd of wild horses. </p><p>ft. horse tamin', star gazin', and pining</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Marston/Arthur Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't let it fool you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>in my defense, i was watching brokeback mountain when i started this fic. </p><p>john's around 19/20 in this fic, and i know bill wasn't with the gang just yet, but he is for the purposes of this. a lot of the horse taming knowledge in this i learned from Godless on Netflix, which is def worth watching. title is from rosyln by bon iver and st. vincent.</p><p>this fic is a love letter to the Big Valley region of the game. i spend as much time there as i can and i still love it.</p><p>anyway, please enjoy !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur's better with horses than John is, but then again, he's better at just about everything.</p><p>So when Dutch informs them they'll be spending the next month hunkered down in Big Valley taming a herd of wild horses for Hosea to sell, John's more than a little confused. He's got no damn idea how to tame a horse. Since he started running with Dutch, John's had only one horse, a pretty chestnut, and Arthur tamed the mare for him. Before that, he had to borrow Hosea's horse, or ride with Arthur. John hasn't had problems with his mare, though Arthur often tells him he isn't sweet enough to her.</p><p>That's easy for Arthur to say- the man feeds his horses sugar cubes like he's trying to bribe them. </p><p>"And how exactly did you 'n Hosea get your hands on a whole herd?" Arthur's asking, smoke curling off the cigarette he's just lit.</p><p>They're in camp, just south of Armadillo, by Lake Don Julio. It's a nice area, but the weather's too damn hot for John's liking. When they aren't working a job or riding out somewhere, John usually forgoes a shirt and lounges in the shade of his tent in just his trousers, suspenders hanging around his legs. Arthur doesn't complain about it, but John knows he likes the mountains better than this endless desert, all tumbleweeds and cacti. They've been staying there for a few months.</p><p>It's not like John's <em>opposed </em>to taking this strange sort of sabbatical with Arthur. Far from it. He'll take any excuse for spending time with him, drawn to Arthur like a moth to flame. But still. He's confused.</p><p>Dutch gives Arthur a look. John hates that, they way him, Arthur, and Hosea can have conversations without saying anything. It makes him feel like a kid again, like the dumb thirteen year old who was just another mouth to feed that he used to be.</p><p>"Bought 'em for next to nothing off a rancher movin' down here," Dutch says. "Said you two can stay at his ranch until he's sold it or until you're done with the horses."</p><p>Arthur settles his hands on his gun belt, and John can tell he's thinking about it. "How many horses?"</p><p>"'round twenty. Rancher said there's five stallions, the rest are all mares. It'll be good money."</p><p>"Gimme a break, Dutch, that's more'n a <em>month </em>of tamin' and trainin'." Arthur looks irritated. "And the golden boy here's got no damn clue how to work with horses 'cept ride 'em."</p><p>John wants to protest, but Arthur's right. "And what're you all gonna be up to while we do all this damn work?" he demands of Dutch instead.</p><p>"Hosea and I will be working a job selling stocks and bonds to some poor sods in the area," Dutch says.</p><p>"What, so we're just <em>disappearin</em>' for a month while you and Hosea and <em>Bill </em>get to keep on havin' fun? He ain't even been runnin' with us for long. You made <em>me </em>wait longer'n a month or two to start doin' jobs," John pouts, and it's true.</p><p>He'd been chomping at the bit for years, since the first time he'd seen Arthur, Dutch, and them ride triumphantly back into camp after a successful job. All bright blue eyes and flushed cheeks and a cut on his cheek from a bullet graze. There'd been a sack of money on his saddle and wildness in his grin, and John had sought out that wild freedom. Still did.</p><p>There's a hand on his shoulder. Arthur's. "That's only 'cause most jobs require a brain, Marston."</p><p>John shakes his hand off. "Shut up."</p><p>"We're keepin' four or five horses, so you two can take your pick once you get to know them," Dutch says, lighting a cigar. "Arthur, make sure John doesn't run off or skip out on learnin' to work with those fine beasts. John, listen to Arthur."</p><p>"Come <em>on</em>," John groans, looking imploringly over at Dutch as Arthur walks away.</p><p>Dutch grows somber, suddenly. Looks to make sure Arthur is out of earshot. "Son. This is a good opportunity for you both. Arthur needs... time. Losing his son... I know it's been more than a year, but you don't really recover from that sorta thing quickly. Working like this, on a sort of... vacation, will be good for him."</p><p>And how can John keep being difficult when he's reminded of that? He sobers up quick, nodding at Dutch. "Okay. Okay. I'll go."</p><p>"Thank you, John." And it's a testament to Dutch's ways that he makes it sound like he was <em>asking </em>John to go with Arthur rather than telling him. Like John's doing him a favor.</p><p>John trails Arthur back to their shared tent, finds him sitting on his cot and lighting another cigarette. He looks tired. "Y'okay?"</p><p>"'course," Arthur nods, blows smoke towards him. "Leavin' tomorrow, first light. I'll wake ya up."</p><p>John doesn't answer, doesn't need to. Just shucks his boots off and flops on his cot, falls asleep to the soft scratch of Arthur's pencil on paper. Doesn't sleep in Arthur's cot like he usually does.</p><p>They ride out at dawn, John's mare following Arthur's through the dust of the desert into plains, then the valley. John can tell Arthur likes Big Valley. He's always liked the mountains. Clean mountain air, he says. John likes it too. </p><p>Late in the afternoon, they reach a small, dilapidated ranch, its only virtue its beautiful location. There's a sign over the entranceway that reads 'Valley View Ranch', and a 'for sale' sign staked into the ground below it. A brisk wind blows through the valley and sends waves through the fields of purple wildflowers. The air here feels clearer than the hot and dusty desert air of New Austin.</p><p>There's a large, fenced-in field alongside the small house, inside it the herd they'll be working with. John spots one of the stallions from afar, a large black and white paint. He can tell he'll be trouble, and he doesn't even know horses well. Most of the other horses are bays or chestnuts, but John can make out a few buckskins and paints and at least one all-black horse.  Arthur hitches his horse at the post by the house and hops out of the saddle, and John follows.</p><p>There's a man on the porch smoking a cigarette, suitcase at his feet. He stands when John and Arthur approach. Asks Arthur if they're Mr. Wyatt's sons. John's only half-listening as Arthur bullshits his way through introductions and the rancher tells them what they need to know about the house. The he's gone, and Arthur's heading straight for the corral. They haven't even unpacked their stuff yet.</p><p>John watches as Arthur smoothly lets himself inside, closing the gate behind him, all focus on the horses. John makes his way over and rests his arms on the fence, waiting to see the reactions of the horses. A nervous energy crackles through the herd as they register Arthur's presence, and they pace around. Arthur moves too, stroking his hand over their velvety backs. "Gotta get 'em used to ya. This here's the groundwork. Real work starts tomorrow."</p><p>John hums, rests his head on his forearms as he watches the horses pace and trot around. "'n what's the real work?"</p><p>"You'll see, boy. Now just watch me."</p><p>So John does, pays attention to the way Arthur's shuffling along with the horses, surprised when they begin to settle. Arthur points out the stallions, notes that the one John noticed earlier seems to have an attitude. Then, Arthur sets his sights on a cream-colored mare with a brown mane, stroking his hand over her belly.</p><p>"This here gal's in foal. Looks like we'll be havin' a colt to deal with, too," Arthur says, and he sounds a little excited.</p><p>"You got any idea how a damn horse birth works?" John asks.</p><p>"'course. Let the mama do the work," Arthur tells him, attention still focused on the mare. "Think she's got a couple weeks left, though."</p><p>John has no idea how Arthur knows all this. He wants to ask, but Arthur's talking to the horse. It's always like this: Arthur teaching John. Arthur taught him to read, and to fish, and to shoot. To shoot <em>well</em>, that is. He'd already had a gun in his hands long before Dutch picked him up. If he's honest with himself, John would be just fine listening to Arthur teach him about damn near anything.</p><p>In recent years, most of what John's learned from Arthur is not to get tangled up in painful affairs with women and family. He watched the aftermath of that Mary Gillis tearing Arthur's heart to pieces. Foolish woman. She'd pushed and pulled Arthur away so many times just to act like it was Arthur who was the problem, in the end. Like she hadn't strung him along and then tossed him aside because he wasn't "good enough" for her. If he thought about it too much, John would start thinking silly things, like how he ought to track down that cruel woman and let her know she'd never deserved Arthur in the first place.</p><p>And then Arthur's son had died, and John had learned what it was like to grieve for someone he'd never even known. He'd learned that the best way to get Arthur out of his head was to make him laugh, usually by seeing John make a fool of himself in some way or another. He'd learned that, when he heard the tell-tale sign of Arthur groaning in the tent beside his, it was best to go in and wake him up from whatever cruel nightmare he was having. Learned that Arthur doesn't much like sleeping alone. That he'll let John into his cot or onto his bedroll to sleep in tandem. They'd gone back to sharing a tent together, after that.</p><p>John's learned another valuable lesson from Arthur in the last few years: what it's like to be in foolish, all-encompassing love with someone. He's so far gone that it scares him a little, if he thinks about it too much. Every time Arthur takes him on a hunt, or they're paired together on a job, or they head down to a saloon together, John feels like he's on fire. When Arthur's in a good mood, John reflects it, following him around camp like he's fourteen again, at Arthur's beck and call.</p><p>He's so gone for Arthur it's silly, and John knows it.</p><p>Later, when Arthur's decided that the horses are used to him enough, they gather their things and bring them inside the house. John cooks, baked beans and a prairie chicken over the fire, and Arthur sets up a bedroll next to the bed in the one bedroom. He says they'll switch off, offers to take the first night on the floor, but John demands that Arthur takes the bed. He tries not to dwell on the fact that Arthur didn't want to just share the bed.</p><p>They go to sleep after a few pulls of whiskey from a hip flask John brought. Like most nights, John's asleep first, lulled by the sound of Arthur's even breaths.</p><p>The next morning, Arthur wakes him early. The sight of Arthur all rumpled in the morning usually throws John halfway into a conniption, and their first morning at the ranch is no different. Arthur's wearing only jeans and his union suit, unbuttoned all the way down to his stomach. John can see a section of Arthur's wide chest. His hair's falling over his forehead, blue eyes bright. He's got a cup of coffee for John already, tells him to get dressed and get outside when he's done.</p><p>John does as he's told, finds Arthur outside with his back to John, talking to the horses. He turns when he hears John approach. "Mornin'. Here. Take these. Use 'em generously, they'll start likin' ya real quick."</p><p>John looks at Arthur's outstretched hand, takes the handful of sugar cubes he's holding. He puts them in his pocket. "So what do I do?"</p><p>Arthur nods his head at the corral. "Get in there with 'em. Gonna get 'em used to both of us, then get 'em used to a rope. Hang on..." He narrows his eyes at John. "'s that my shirt?"</p><p>"Hm?" John looks down. It is, in fact, Arthur's shirt, a faded red one that he must've mistaken for his own while he was getting dressed. He shrugs. He doesn't feel too bad about it. "Guess so."</p><p>Arthur rolls his eyes at him and gives him a light push. "C'mon. Get in there."</p><p>"Mmkay," John nods.</p><p>When Arthur slips inside the corral, John follows, tensing as the horses begin to pace and trot around nervously. "Don't you get nervous, Marston. That's their job. Do what I do. Move through 'em, make it clear you ain't gonna do nothin' to hurt 'em."</p><p>"What, I gotta do your little skippin' dance?"</p><p>"Either that or get stepped on, ya dolt."</p><p>With a laugh, John mimics Arthur's shuffling gait, keeping out of the way of the horses. He smooths a hand over the velvety back of the pretty black and white paint stallion. The horses kick up a bit of dust in the dry dirt, and John coughs a bit. It's different watching from inside the corral, being part of the moving current of horses, rather than watching Arthur interact with them yesterday. He can hear Arthur muttering soothing words.</p><p>A tall chestnut blanket with a blaze on its forehead comes right up to John, nosing at his pocketful of sugar cubes. John, half sure it'd been approaching him just to give him a swift kick in the chest, laughs loudly. The horse, a mare, keeps nosing at his pocket, so John digs out a sugar cube and feeds it to her. She stays with him while the other horses keep on moving, snorts when John pets her nose and strokes down over her neck.</p><p>"Talk to her nice, John," Arthur calls, watching them from the other side of the corral. He's got three horses chomping at his sugar cubes, and he's still paying attention to John. His forehead is shining with sweat.</p><p>"What do I say?" John calls back. The mare's ear twitches, but she doesn't go anywhere.</p><p>There's a pause while Arthur laughs at a horse nudging at the side of his head. It's like he's some kind of animal whisperer, honestly. John would be annoyed about it if he weren't so damn enamored by it. "Anythin'. Sweet nothings, like you'd talk to a lady."</p><p>John's hardly talked to any ladies in his whole sorry life, but he tries anyway. "Hey, miss. Want another, pretty lady?"</p><p>He gives the horse another one, and she tosses her head at him, lets him pet her neck. John keeps talking, noticing that the other horses have settled. After a minute, he finds the paint stallion again and offers him a sugar cube. The stallion is unimpressed, but doesn't back away when John puts a hand out to pat him. While he pets and murmurs platitudes to the stallion, John looks over at Arthur.</p><p>Arthur's too handsome like this, all square jaw and sharp, focused eyes as he works his way around the corral. The grey shirt he's got on is old and worn, and John knows it's soft because Arthur's let him borrow it for some reason or another multiple times. He's looking over each horse, inspecting their legs from a safe distance, probably judging which of them will be the first he'll tame.</p><p>"What're you doin'?" John asks, following Arthur as he makes his way around the corral.</p><p>"Just lookin'," Arthur says. He points to a bay mare to his left. "She's first."</p><p>"So... what do we do?"</p><p>Arthur makes an annoyed noise as he takes a rope from his belt. "I'm gonna <em>show </em>you, ain't I? Just <em>watch</em>, boy."</p><p>John makes an annoyed noise right back, but he watches all the same. When Arthur approaches her, the mare noses at his shirt pocket, and Arthur reaches in and gives her a sugar cube. Slowly, he reaches up and loops the rope around the mare's neck. The horse snorts and stomps her feet a bit, nervous, and Arthur calms her with more sugar cubes and soft words.</p><p>"That's right, nice 'n easy, lady." Arthur shoots John a quick look, probably to make sure he's paying attention. Like he's ever <em>not </em>paying attention to Arthur. "C'mon. Goin' this way."</p><p>When Arthur begins leading the mare out of the larger corral, towards the small one, John follows them both, closes the gate to make sure the rest of the herd doesn't go anywhere. He watches as Arthur leads her in circles around the corral, brings her to a stop at the center, puts both hands at the middle of her back. The mare is nervous, but Arthur's calm, in his element the same way he is when he's looking down the barrel of his rifle or ribbing John about something.</p><p>"Gonna get her to lay down. Ain't natural for a horse to lay down, not unless they're real comfortable," Arthur's saying, smoothing his hands down the horse's back. "We're <em>tamin</em>' her, not <em>breakin</em>' her. Breakin' a horse is actin' like the horse is some kinda servant, not your partner. We want a partnership. Got that?"</p><p>"Mhm. Taming, not breakin'," John confirms.</p><p>"So I'm pushin' down on her back now, see how her ears are movin'? She's nervous. But she's doin' real good, ain't that right, lady? C'mon, lay down," Arthur's speaking softly, loud enough that John can hear but not loud enough to scare the horse.</p><p>The horse bends her legs and lays down with a <em>whuff</em>, accepting Arthur's sugar cube. Arthur sits down beside her in the dirt and strokes his hands up and down her back.</p><p>"<em>Real </em>good, girl, real good," Arthur tells her. He glances up at John. "This here's to build trust. She only listened 'cause she trusts that I ain't gon' try anything while she's layin' down. Tomorrow, we'll sit on 'em while they're layin' down, get 'em used to the feeling."</p><p>"Okay... what now?"</p><p>"Now you gimme a hand gettin' her used to a bridle. C'mere." Arthur beckons John over, and together they tie the rope around the mare's neck into something resembling a rope hackamore. Their fingers keep brushing together, Arthur's big hands deftly tying the knots beside John's own. It makes John feel warm, and not just from the mountain sun bearing down on him. The horse's nostrils flare as she gets used to the makeshift bridle, but she doesn't take any action to discourage them.</p><p>John watches as the mare blinks her pretty brown eyes at them, pets her nose a bit. "See? Ain't so bad, pretty girl. You're doin' good."</p><p>"Marston, if you talked to yer own horse like that, she'd love ya," Arthur chuckles at him. His smile is blinding.</p><p>John looks back at his own mare, grazing next to Arthur's in the meadow nearby. "I think she likes me just fine."</p><p>"Ain't you fall offa her just last week?" Arthur prods, his casual smile turning into a shit-eating grin.</p><p>"She got <em>spooked</em>, it weren't my fault," John grumbles, and Arthur laughs some more.</p><p>He's got a nice laugh. John feels his chest get tight whenever Arthur laughs, a rare occurrence these days. It makes him laugh too, despite himself.</p><p>"Anyway. Layin' her down and bein' kind and charmin' her teaches her you're gonna be the one who's gonna feed her, water her, take care of her. And she's the one who's gonna take ya where ya need to go. Get me?" Arthur asks, stroking his hand over the mare's forehead.</p><p>"Mhm."</p><p>Arthur gives him a long look, then stands and lightly tugs the rope to get the mare to stand again. "C'mon, you. Time for the next one."</p><p>After they let the bay mare back into the large corral, Arthur picks a demure chestnut mare and lets John lead her into the training corral. When they reach the point where John's to lay the mare down, Arthur stands right behind him to instruct him, all solid heat and murmured guidance. It gives John the chills. He hardly pays any attention to the mare, mostly focuses on how Arthur smells like good tobacco and dirt, the way his gruff voice sounds in John's ear.</p><p>Luckily the mare listens to John easily, right up until when she decides she wants a sugar cube enough to nip lightly at John's ear. "Hey!"</p><p>Arthur feeds her one, shaking with laughter. "You're lucky she didn't take yer ear right off, boy. Focus!"</p><p>They continue like this, Arthur instructing John, until they've gotten through most of the herd and the sun has started to sink. There's a hazy red glow to in the air, the waning sun's last rays as it slips down below the mountains to the west. Arthur's face is red, from the sun and from a day of hard work. When he tells John they're done for the day, he shrugs off his suspenders and undoes a few buttons on his shirt, and John utterly fails at any attempt not to stare at the long column of his neck, his freckled clavicle, shiny with sweat.</p><p>Arthur has them sleep outside that night, says it'll build trust with the horses. They cook up a can of beans and a wild turkey Arthur caught and butchered and eat it under the vast mountain sky. In the light of the fire, Arthur's glowing, and John's tipsy off the whiskey Arthur's been passing him, can't stop glancing over at him. Arthur's sketching something in that journal of his, so John leans over, into his space, to see what it is. The heat of Arthur's body feels warmer than the damn fire. The drawing is a simple sketch of the paint mustang that had drawn John's eye earlier.</p><p>"C'n I help you with somethin'?" Arthur asks, looking over at John and raising an eyebrow.</p><p>John shakes his head, rests it on Arthur's shoulder. "Nope. 'm good."</p><p>"Yer drunk, is what you are, Marston."</p><p>"Naw." John lays down flat, looks up at the sky. "Stars 're different than they are out west. Ain't never been this far east before." The soles of John's boots are warm from the fire.</p><p>"Hmm," comes Arthur's response. "You ain't never seen the ocean before either, have ya?"</p><p>John shakes his head, lifts it to sip on the whiskey. "Nope. Don't think I'd like it much."</p><p>"Ah, forgot you're afraid o' swimmin', Johnny boy." Arthur's grinning down at him.</p><p>"I ain't <em>afraid</em> of anythin'," John spits. He whacks Arthur's shoulder with his free hand. "Just don't particularly enjoy drownin'."</p><p>Arthur takes the whiskey from John's hand and takes a long pull. John's eyes track the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. "I wouldn't let ya drown, you fool."</p><p>"What, we goin' to the ocean?" John takes the whiskey back and takes a sip. The bottle's still wet from Arthur's lips.</p><p>"Maybe someday. Ain't Dutch always sayin' we'll get to California?" Arthur says, nudges John's boot.</p><p>"Dutch is always sayin' a whole lotta stuff. I only listen to half o' it." John says truthfully. The whiskey's got his tongue good and loose, and he should be more conscious of what he's saying but his big mouth keeps on moving before his brain can catch up.</p><p>Above him, Arthur chuckles, low and hearty. "You <em>are </em>drunk, huh Marston? Know you'd never own up to that sober."</p><p>"Aw, shut up."</p><p>There's a pause. "How come you been so agreeable these last few days? Usually you gimme a big mouthful every damn time I tell you to do somethin'. Ain't had to deal with one 'a your sad attempts at a punch in... who knows how long."</p><p>John shrugs, looks back up at the sky. "Dunno. Nothin' to prove by bein' difficult with you, I guess."</p><p>"What's <em>that </em>supposed to mean? You know damn well you got nothin' to prove to Dutch or Hosea or anybody else, golden boy."</p><p>"Do sometimes, though. To Bill. Them Callander brothers. Always givin' me shit."</p><p>Arthur's looking over at him. "What, they been botherin' you?"</p><p>"Only all the damn time," John grumbles. "Buggin' me about not carryin' my weight like it's <em>my </em>fault that you 'n Dutch hardly ever bring me on jobs."</p><p>"Aw, come on. You know I- <em>Dutch </em>is just tryin' to protect ya. Keep ya safe."</p><p>"I ain't a kid anymore, Arthur. I c'n hold my own. Ya don't need to protect me."</p><p>"I know. I know you ain't a kid anymore. Turns out I ain't very good at protectin' people, anyway." There's something in Arthur's voice, and John looks at him. He looks far away.</p><p>John's heart sinks. "No, I didn't mean it like that-"</p><p>"I know, John. 'S okay." Arthur gives him a sad smile, then looks back at the sky, sighing.</p><p>There's a long pause. Arthur takes a long pull of whiskey, and John reaches for the bottle. Arthur holds it far off.</p><p>"Hey. Gimme that back," John demands.</p><p>"Naw, I think you're done for tonight."</p><p>John turns to look at him, incredulous. "Quit playin', Arthur. Gimme it."</p><p>Arthur shakes his head, and his lips are curling at the corners. "'m serious. Gotta be up early tomorrow. Ain't dealin' with you feelin' sick all day cause you had one too many sips o' whiskey." </p><p>With a growl, more from his chest than anywhere else, John sets himself upon Arthur. He makes a desperate play for the bottle, all stubborn grabbing hands and one knee between Arthur's. All Arthur does is laugh and hold his arm out so John can't reach the bottle. Irritated, John keeps on wrestling and grabbing for the bottle, ends up straddling Arthur's waist, follows Arthur's arm and ends up with his face too damn close to his. Almost nose to nose. He's got the whiskey though, so he sits up and takes a long pull. Arthur's got one hand on John's thigh. They're both panting.</p><p>Arthur's still laughing, the bastard. John laughs too, then startles when Arthur gives his thigh a squeeze. "C'mon, cowboy. Least you can do is keep me warm."</p><p>John's up quickly, too quickly, following Arthur to the other side of the fire where their bedrolls are laid out. Like always, he follows Arthur's lead. Returns to the ground after Arthur's laid down, scoots himself backwards until he's in the familiar circle of Arthur's arms. It's only ever this: keeping each other warm, warding off the nightmares of cruel fathers and lost sons, of nooses and shackles and bleeding out alone.</p><p>It is enough, and it is also not enough at all.</p><p>Luckily tonight, John's on the right side of tipsy that he doesn't have time to dwell on it before he falls asleep.</p><p>The next days fall into a routine: Arthur will wake John, they'll eat and have coffee, work with the horses, make dinner, and fall asleep tangled up. After they've gotten the horses used to them, gotten the whole herd to lay down and get accustomed to a bridle, gotten them used to the weight and feel of a human on their back, Arthur says a few are ready to ride out on bareback, just for short trips. The saddles and bits and proper bridles will come later.</p><p>So they take the horses out, two at a time, for short rides through the valley each day. It's nice, peaceful. It's good work, and John likes it. For the most part, the horses are agreeable and learn quickly. Arthur takes a shine to a big brown dapple mare with a light mane, favors training her the most. She's young, probably only two or three years old, but learns quick. John does well with most of the horses, but hasn't found one he'd like to keep, just yet.</p><p>During the second week, John gets bucked off that stubborn paint stallion's back and hurts his hip something fierce. Arthur's there right away, big hands gentle on his leg, making sure nothing's broken or dislocated.</p><p>"You're alright. 's just gonna bruise real bad," Arthur tells him gently. He's talking to John like he'd talk to one of the horses.</p><p>"Know you wanna laugh," John grumbles. Arthur's always laughing at him.</p><p>A wrinkle appears between Arthur's eyebrows, confused. "Maybe when you ain't still layin' on the ground. Think you c'n get up?"</p><p>"Fuck you, o' course I can." John bites down on the inside of his cheek and stands, accepts Arthur's offering of his shoulder to lean on. "Damn."</p><p>"Y'know you gotta get back on 'im, right?" Arthur jerks a thumb in the direction of the stallion, grazing by the buckskin stallion Arthur'd been riding. "I'd make ya ride with me, but I don't reckon this boy'll take two riders, just yet. And you ain't walkin'."</p><p>"I know," John nods. They aren't too far from the ranch, it isn't a long ride back. And now John's got something to prove to Arthur. And that damn stallion.</p><p>"Reckon yer done for the day after this, boy."</p><p>John turns and looks at him. "Reckon <em>I'll </em>decide when I'm done, thank you kindly."</p><p>Arthur doesn't say anything, so John focuses his attention on the stallion. When he hears John approach, his head snaps up, dark eyes focusing on John as he walks towards him. John holds a hand out, lays it on the stallion's shoulder.</p><p>"Okay, you great brute. Know ya been waitin' to do that to me since we met. Gonna behave, now?" He strokes his hand up the stallion's neck, looking for any sign that the horse is going to bolt.</p><p>The stallion keeps still, seems to be enjoying John's petting, even, so John swings himself onto his back. Aside from a temperamental snort, the stallion makes no move to eject John from his seat. Buoyed by his success, John grabs the rope reins in both hands and squeezes the stallion between his thighs, urges him forward.</p><p>The stallion takes off at a canter and John nudges him again until he's galloping and then sprinting. "C'mon, you. Show me what you've got, huh?"</p><p>There's wind in his hair and John's belatedly realizing that his hat is gone but it doesn't really matter. John steers the stallion through the small creek that runs through the valley and grins when it splashes up and splatters his face with cool water. A flock of geese on the edge of the creek honk at them as they make their departure.</p><p>It hurts his hip, sprinting the horse this fast, but John's determined. He sprints the stallion until they're both panting loudly, then leads him back to the ranch, where Arthur's leaning on the fence of the corral and smoking a cigarette. Watching him.</p><p>"How'd you know to tire 'im out?" Arthur asks. He's wearing John's hat.</p><p>John slides off the stallion's back, makes a noise when he lands and it hurts his hip. "Saw you do it. I was scared of ridin' Hosea's horse once and you said he'd be more agreeable if he was tired."</p><p>"Hosea's horse? You musta been young." Arthur's expression is unreadable as he thinks back. "How come I didn't let you ride mine?"</p><p>"We was ridin' out together to scope out a bank job. I went and broke my damn arm, 'member?"</p><p>Now Arthur laughs, bright and loud. "Ooh, you cried for ages! Had to baby you for weeks, I did."</p><p>It's true. Arthur's good at playing mother hen. Nowadays, it makes John crazy with adoration when Arthur worries about him.</p><p>"Well, sorry for your trouble."</p><p>"Aw, shut up." Arthur tosses his cigarette to the ground and crushes it with his foot. He jerks his head towards the ranch house. "Get on in. I'm takin' a look at that hip. And it's gonna rain soon, and I don't feel like ridin' in the rain when I can take a good nap instead."</p><p>John knows Arthur just doesn't want him to keep working. He doesn't argue it.</p><p>He returns the stallion to the corral, feeling accomplished. The stallion turns his nose up when John goes to pet him one last time, but John just laughs and tosses him a sugar cube. When he's inside, Arthur hands him his hat and points at his hip. John's got no drawers under his jeans and he's a little embarrassed, but he yanks down the side of his pants to show Arthur his hip anyway. It hurts a little when Arthur pokes at the soft part of his hip, but provides a welcome distraction from the raging hard-on he's sprung. It's not his fault. Arthur's hands are warm and he smells like tobacco and horse and he's breathing on John's stomach. John's only a man.</p><p>John's doing well at hiding his hard-on with the hand he's holding his jeans with, and he's disappointed and also relieved when Arthur backs off. "Yeah, you'll be alright. Wasn't the best idea to open that stallion up on a bad hip, but. You ain't ever had the brightest ideas."</p><p>John tugs his jeans back up and gives Arthur a shove. Says "Next time I'll just let him throw <em>you </em>off instead," and he's smiling broadly. Arthur shoves him right back.</p><p>John's hip bruises blue and purple and his hands shake every time Arthur checks it before they get to work in the morning.</p><p>Within a week, they've gotten all the horses under the saddle, and can take them out for short hunting excursions and ride the trails up Mount Shann. It's nice to ride out with Arthur every morning. Living like this, it's easy for John to imagine another reality, in which he still wakes tangled up with Arthur but he kisses the freckles on his shoulders as he wakes up, grabs a handful of his backside as they sip coffee, tackles him into the soft grass and kisses him silly as they water the horses.</p><p>At night, they sit at the fireplace or outside with a fire by the horses, and John burns with it, like he's aflame too. They'll pass a whiskey bottle back and forth, still wet from Arthur's lips every time John takes a sip. When they wash up every few days in the creek that runs through the valley, John can't keep his eyes from wandering, can't tear his eyes away from Arthur's big arms and broad chest, the graceful slope of his muscled back, his strong thighs and curved backside. It's always like this, even when they're at camp with the gang. John will trail Arthur around, accompanying him wherever Arthur will let him go. Chasing after any sign of approval, any lopsided smile or huffed laugh. Fight and bicker with him like a feral animal to compensate for the dopey smiles and fawning attitude.</p><p>It's a little pathetic. John knows it is.</p><p>They're sitting outside by the fire when the mare begins to foal. John's leaning on a felled tree and stealing hits from Arthur's cigarettes, blowing the smoke towards the stars. Arthur's looking up towards the sky, but when a pained whinny comes from the corral, his head snaps up, suddenly alert. He kicks John's boot with his, nudges his side.</p><p>"Johnny. You hear that?" Arthur asks him, voice low.</p><p>"Mhm. What was it?"</p><p>"'s go find out." Arthur gets up and heads for the corral, graceful and quick.</p><p>John scrambles to his feet and follows him, tosses Arthur's cigarette in the fire. Out in the fenced-in field, the cream-colored pregnant mare is settling herself in the dirt off to the side of the fence, breathing labored. The other horses are giving her a wide berth, grazing some yards away. John's never seen a horse have her foal, but he knows he's about to. When the mare makes a pained noise and tosses her head, John reflexively reaches out and grabs Arthur's bicep.</p><p>Arthur hardly even reacts, just tugs John forward with the arm he's holding, hops over the fence and settles the mare's head on John's lap. Arthur squats down by her rump, squints in the low moonlight.</p><p>It happens quick, maybe a half hour of the mare panting and John and Arthur saying encouraging words, and then there's a new foal, a brown filly with a blaze on her forehead, already lightly dappled white. She's all leg, and she's following her mother around the field on those long, lanky legs within the hour.</p><p>John's struck dumb by it, the quickness and efficiency of nature. He smokes a cigarette as he watches the mare and her foal traipse around the field in the moonlight. Beside him, Arthur's laid out in the grass, head pillowed on his arms, looking up at the stars. Occasionally his boot will bump John's. John is very aware of how close they are.</p><p>When John's cigarette is gracefully plucked from his hand, John allows himself to look over at Arthur. The bastard's smirking at him, inhaling deeply on the cigarette before blowing it towards John. John waves his hand through it, steals his cigarette back. Takes a final drag and positions his face over Arthur's, blows smoke right at him. Arthur, unphased, inhales John's smoke, exhales it in a small puff in John's face.</p><p>John almost chokes, and not from the smoke. "Wha... how'd you-"</p><p>"What, you ain't never shotgunned with someone before?"</p><p>"<em>No</em>," John sits back, feeling dumb. "Why- why's it called that?"</p><p>Arthur points his thumb towards his real shotgun, on the porch. "You c'n open up the barrel and send smoke right through it to someone at the other end. C'n do it with beer, too. Or whiskey."</p><p>"Or... right into someone's damn mouth."</p><p>"Heh. Right. Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all, and John has no idea what's happening.</p><p>John is confused and somewhat hard and maybe even a little hopeful. He can't stop staring at Arthur. At the way the moonlight reflects in his eyes, how he can still see the blue in them despite it being dark outside. At the light freckles on his cheeks, hard-earned from their days in the sun. His hair, getting a little long, blowing over his forehead in the soft breeze.</p><p>"Quit lookin' at me like that," Arthur mutters some time later.</p><p>"Like what, Arthur?"</p><p>"Like <em>that</em>. Like you're..."</p><p>"Am I lookin' any different than how I always do?"</p><p>Arthur makes an annoyed sound. "No, and that's the problem, you're.... You got no damn idea."</p><p>"Arthur..."</p><p>"John."</p><p>John huffs a dramatic sigh, lays back in the grass beside Arthur. He's asleep within a few minutes.</p><p>When he wakes, it's still dark. There's a hand on his shin. Warm. Arthur.</p><p>"C'mon. Reckon we oughta sleep inside tonight. Gonna rain tomorrow." There isn't a cloud in the sky, but John knows he's probably right. He's usually right about these things.</p><p>"Time's it?" John mumbles, following Arthur inside.</p><p>Arthur shrugs. "Only slept a few minutes. Started snorin'."</p><p>John huffs a laugh and takes the hand Arthur's offering to help him up, certainly doesn't blush when he comes up with his face inches from Arthur's in the firelight. He follows Arthur inside. "We goin' to sleep?"</p><p>Arthur only nods, leads John into the bedroom. Like always, John follows, kicks off his boots and tugs off his jeans and overshirt so he's just in his union suit. </p><p>Except he's <em>not </em>in his union suit, he's just in his drawers, cause he hasn't been wearing his union suit because it's been too warm out in the early spring sun, and now he's standing by the bed in just his drawers, shivering from the cold air on his chest. Arthur's already in the small bed, making a face at John.</p><p>"What're you waitin' for, an invitation?" he demands, voice rough with exhaustion.</p><p>"I-"</p><p>"Just <em>get in</em>, John," Arthur huffs.</p><p>So John does, clambers into the bed and slides between the sheets. He doesn't face Arthur, he never does, just scoots backwards until his back is pressed against Arthur's big chest. He's grown accustomed to the feeling of Arthur's arm slung over his waist, his breath along the back of his neck. Breathing in tandem. Dragging each other out of nightmares. Separating in the morning and going back to normal.</p><p>It's light outside already when John wakes up, finds himself alone in the small bed. He guesses it to be around noon, based on where the sun's at. Or isn't at. It's overcast. There's a canteen of water waiting for him on the table beside the bed, and John takes it and drinks it like someone's about to steal it from him.</p><p>He dresses and makes his way outside, looking for Arthur. He finds him out in the field, walking with the filly and her mother. The brown dapple mare Arthur's taken a shine to is out as well, grazing by the wildflowers. She's saddled up already.</p><p>Of course, the filly's already taken a shine to Arthur, playing and chasing him like they're already best pals. For a few minutes, John just watches Arthur and the horses, watches him laugh and trip and fall and reach up to pet the filly's nose. It's nice, watching Arthur smile and have fun. It makes John's chest feel funny.</p><p>It takes a little while for Arthur to notice him, too caught up in his new friends, but when he does, he smiles wider and waves at John. "Well, hi, sleepin' beauty."</p><p>John nods at the mare. "Goin' somewhere?"</p><p>"Mhm. Takin' my girl out. You're comin' too, once you pick what horse you're keepin'." Arthur gives a low whistle, and the mare lopes over to him.</p><p>"How'd you teach her to do that?" John asks, eyes wide.</p><p>Arthur holds out a sugar cube. "Did it while you was sleepin'. Gotta whistle, step back, show 'em the sugar cube. Keep goin' til' they follow. When you get to know 'em better, they'll know to listen for it." He looks proud of himself. It's endearing. "Anyhow, you pick a horse yet?"</p><p>John shakes his head. "No, ain't really thought about it yet."</p><p>"How 'bout that stallion, the paint? Think you two're just about made for each other, couple o' stubborn bastards."</p><p>John looks to the herd, finds the stallion grazing off to the side. "You really think so? Reckon he'll gimme hell."</p><p>"And you'll give it right back. 's what you do to me every day of our sorry lives." Arthur looks at John seriously, reaches around and pats him on the back. "Go on. I know you can handle him. And he'll be good to ya."</p><p>So John approaches the stallion, feeling fuzzy and excited by Arthur's encouragement. The stallion huffs at him while John saddles him up, but doesn't give any real pushback. By the time John's swinging himself up into the saddle, Arthur's on his mare too, waiting for him.</p><p>John follows him through the meadow, wonders if him getting too drunk the night before was a bad move. Arthur hasn't said anything about it, but he still let John into bed with him, so he can't be mad, right? But he said John was looking at him funny, and how is John supposed to know what that means? Most of his days are spent looking at Arthur; on horseback, from across camp, on the other side of the campfire.</p><p>He knows he can be a little thick sometimes. But so can Arthur. It's endearing at times, the way he can take a little while to get the gist of a joke or understand something John's not-so-subtly implying. The way his grin splits his face when he gets it, his big stupid laugh. John's smiling just thinking about it.</p><p>Maybe he's gotten a little too used to having Arthur all to himself while they've been working this job. It doesn't feel much like a job anymore. It feels like... a life John might enjoy having. Peacefully training and raising horses, only picking up a gun to fend off a coyote or a wolf. Living with Arthur in the mountains without bounties on their heads, hunting together, working in their little unit of two. Simple. Domestic.</p><p>John's never thought about anything domestic in a good light. His own pa was a piece of shit, cruel and neglectful. Used to dunk John's head in a barrel if he wasn't acting right. The orphanages weren't anything close to homey, either. He's only ever felt a sense of family with Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea. He thinks, maybe, he'd like to have a ranch and a family someday. Only if Arthur's part of that family, though.</p><p>"Whatchu thinkin' bout so hard?" Arthur asks a few minutes into John's reverie. They're riding side by side, now, through a path in the pine trees. "You better focus, or that boy's gonna feel neglected and pitch ya right off again."</p><p>"Aw, he's okay. Ain't that right, mister?" John pats the stallion's neck. He doesn't lie to Arthur, not really, and he ain't starting now. "Was just thinkin' bout what it'd be like to live like this. All the time. Ranchin'."</p><p>Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. "That so? I think you'd be a fine rancher, cowboy."</p><p>John feels his cheeks heat up at the praise. "You ain't so bad, yourself. How do you know all this? Horses 'n all that."</p><p>"Learned a lot of it from Hosea. And I've had a lot of practice here and there." Arthur shrugs one shoulder. "It's good work. And I wanted to be a cowboy, when I was a kid, so I was always askin' Hosea to teach me more, after they picked me up."</p><p>John laughs at the thought of a little Arthur. "Do you think you woulda been? If Hosea and Dutch hadn't. Y'know."</p><p>"Think I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere if it weren't for them. Same for you," Arthur says. "C'mon. 's a stream up here, I wanna wash up."</p><p>By the grace of God, John's able to keep his eyes from straying below Arthur's belly while they wash. The water's cold, runoff from the melting snow, and John starts shivering quick. The horses are hitched to a tree, both of them grazing and not paying Arthur or John any attention. John takes the bar of soap proffered to him and washes quick, then lays out in the grass, lets the sun dry him off.</p><p>Arthur takes longer, and John lets himself watch him while his back is turned. When he's done, he lays down next to John in the grass, just close enough that John can feel how warm he is. Sitting next to Arthur, always, is like being next to a fire. He's always so damn warm. During the winter, John bullies him into staying close so he can use him like a radiator.</p><p>They're leaving soon, John knows. The horses are all trained except for a stubborn few, and the new filly is doing just fine without him or Arthur interfering. In a few days, they'll head back for New Austin, and Arthur will put his melancholy back on like a coat, only smiling when he's looking down the barrel of a gun or laughing at John or taking care of his horse.</p><p>John doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay here, in this little domestic bubble, where Arthur laughs and jokes and teaches him about horses all day long. Where he shows his affection for Arthur like a normal person, instead of being stubborn and disagreeable and bickering with him all the time.</p><p>"What're you sighin' about? You mopin' again, Johnny?" Arthur pokes at the soft part of John's waist, and John makes an undignified sound of surprise, twists away.</p><p>"Again?"</p><p>"Yeah, like you used to. What, you was fifteen? Sixteen? Mopin' all day long." Arthur turns on his side. John feels his gaze like it's burning a hole into him.</p><p>He remembers. It was when Arthur would go out and see Mary, and come back one of two ways: defeated or on cloud nine. He hates to admit it, but John always felt a bit better when Arthur would come back upset, because he thought maybe Arthur would finally come to see that he deserved better than goddamn Mary Gillis. It took him a while to realize why he felt that way.</p><p>"I ain't mopin'," John grumbles. "Just... I like it here. Don't wanna leave yet."</p><p>Arthur frowns, considering. "Well... I'd say we got least a week and a half left of trainin'. Then we gotta go back to the real world."</p><p>"Whatchu mean, 'the real world'? This ain't real?"</p><p>"You know what I mean, John." John's maybe sure he knows what Arthur means and it's scaring the hell out of him.</p><p>The way Arthur's talking... it's making John nervous. The previous night, him saying John was looking at him funny... now, talking like he knows what John's thinking. It almost sounds like he knows exactly why John doesn't want to leave. So John does what he always does when he's in a situation he doesn't like: he leaves.</p><p>He gets up quickly, fumbles an explanation that his hip's still hurting and he wants to rest it instead of keep riding. He doesn't even button his shirt up all the way before riding off. Before he's gone, he takes one look back.</p><p>Arthur's standing there in just his jeans, hurriedly tugged on, looking confused and maybe even a little hurt.</p><p>The sun is beginning to set when Arthur gets back. John's out in the corral, trying to teach the stallion to come to him when he whistles. The stubborn horse comes only when he wants to, it seems.</p><p>John hears Arthur's approach, hears the soft thumps of his horse's hooves on the grass, deliberately keeps his back turned.</p><p>"Alright. What'd I do?" Arthur asks.</p><p>John's so surprised at the question that he forgets he wasn't going to look at Arthur, instead turning on his heel immediately. Arthur's standing there on the other side of the fence, still leading his horse, holding his hat in both hands like he's nervous or something.</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"You're either pissed or upset 'bout somethin', and since I'm the only other person 'round here for at least a few miles, it's gotta be me." Arthur worries at the hat in his hands.</p><p>"You- I- I'm confused."</p><p>Arthur sighs, starts to walk away. "I'm puttin' this lady out and then you're tellin' me what's wrong."</p><p>John's panicking. He's never been able to lie to Arthur.</p><p>It takes Arthur only a few minutes to untack his horse and put her out to graze. Then he's taking John by the arm and sitting him down by last night's fire. He lights it again, starts preparing a can of beans and pulls some jerky out of his satchel without a word to John. John thinks his hands are shaking but he's not sure.</p><p>"Okay." Arthur flops down beside John after they've eaten in silence. He hands John a bottle of whiskey, and John's almost too nervous to drink it. Almost. "Tell me what's goin' on here. What'd I do?"</p><p>"You didn't do nothin'. I'm just..." John trails off, takes another few swigs of whiskey for some liquid courage and then puts the bottle aside.</p><p>"Just what, John?"</p><p>It's just about dark outside now, and Arthur's face is glowing in the light of the fire, and John is in love with him.</p><p>"I... I reckon you know what, Arthur." John can't look at him. Won't. "Don't make me say it. I ain't good with words. And don't make me lie to you, neither. Ain't never been able to lie to you, least not well."</p><p>There's a soft intake of breath. "Don't joke with me 'bout this, John. Ain't funny."</p><p>"Do I look like I'm laughin'?" John demands, and his voice sounds raw.</p><p>"Are you... I'm thinkin' we're on the same page here but I..."</p><p>They are past the point of no return, John thinks. He also thinks he's about to explode, knows he can't ever recant what he just said or didn't say, so he reaches forward and grabs Arthur's face. Kisses him. Arthur's hat falls off, making a soft noise when it hits the ground behind him.</p><p>And then, Jesus goddamn Christ, Arthur's kissing him back.</p><p>Arthur tastes like whiskey and their dinner from earlier and his stubble scrapes John's lips and it is nowhere near John's first kiss but it is the only one that has ever mattered. A hand comes to rest on John's jaw, rough with calluses, bringing him closer.</p><p>Their lips are both chapped and rough and it takes a few seconds for them to get a good rhythm going. John is breathing hard through his nose and so is Arthur. Their teeth clack and their noses bump and it's ungraceful and a little unsure and it's got John's heart racing like he's running for his life.</p><p>He's panting when Arthur pulls back and rests his forehead against John's. His hand moves from John's face and into his hair and comes to cradle his head. "Jesus. <em>Jesus</em>, John."</p><p>"Been waitin' on that for a while." John has no idea when he got this bold. He doesn't think it's the whiskey. The fire's still burning alongside them and John feels like he's burning right along with it.</p><p>Arthur's eyes close. He breathes a long breath, and John breathes it in. "You got no idea, Marston. No goddamn idea."</p><p>John huffs a laugh, kisses Arthur again. He savors the lingering taste of whiskey. It tastes much better on Arthur's tongue than it does on his own. Arthur grabs for his waist and squeezes, tugging him closer.</p><p>John rises to his knees and shoves Arthur onto his back, maneuvering them so he's straddling Arthur's hips. Arthur yanks him closer by the belt loops on his jeans and kisses him again, kisses John until he's dizzy.</p><p>If John rips a few button's off Arthur's shirt while roughly yanking it open, neither of them are any the wiser to it. He pushes it aside, runs his hands over Arthur's broad chest. It's lightly haired, and his stomach and chest are big and muscled from riding and running and the difficult lives they lead. Earned muscles. Arthur is solid. There are light freckles on his clavicle and along his collarbone. He's beautiful, and John wants to devour him whole.</p><p>Arthur's hands, graceful artist's hands but also hardened gunman's hands, hands John's been fascinated with since he was barely a teenager, are roving over John's body like he's an object of reverence. A million times, he's watched Arthur's quick fingers reload a gun and brush his hair back from his face and light cigarettes, and a million times, he's thought about how they'd feel touching him. But he never thought it'd actually happen.</p><p>It's very likely that John's the hardest he's ever been in his life, rocking his hips down against Arthur's, chasing any kind of friction he can get. "Gonna kill you if you don't touch me," he pants.</p><p>There's a breathless laugh. "'m I not already?"</p><p>"Put your goddamn hands somewhere <em>useful</em>, Morgan. Please."</p><p>"So <em>this </em>is what it takes to get you to ask nicely?" Arthur's laughing again. John thinks he can just barely taste the laughter. "Well, I'd've kissed ya sooner, then."</p><p>"<em>I </em>kissed <em>you</em>, ya horse's ass," John growls. He grabs for Arthur's hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans.</p><p>"You're really somethin', Marston."</p><p>John kisses him again, rough. "Quit callin' me that."</p><p>"What would you prefer, darlin'? Or does that one work just fine?" Arthur's got a shit-eating grin on his face.</p><p>"If you don't stop talkin' and put your hand in my pants I really am gonna kill ya," John pants, ingreasingly impatient.</p><p>Arthur laughs again, then deftly undoes John's jeans. When he gets a hand around John's hard cock, John lets out an undignified sound that is possibly a whimper. There are calluses on his hands and for a moment it's almost too rough when he gives John's cock a few tugs, but then he pulls his hand out of John's pants and spits on his palm. It's better, then, and John feels like he's coming apart at the seams.</p><p>With shaking, fumbling hands, John reaches for Arthur's crotch, undoes his pants and reaches into his drawers. Exposed, Arthur's cock is big and thick, and John's mouth is watering thinking of sucking his dick but he hasn't got the patience for that, not now. Arthur lines his own cock up with John's, guides John's hand around both of them. The muscles of Arthur's abdomen twitch and jump when John starts moving his hand.</p><p>John can't take his eyes off of Arthur's face, the crease between his eyebrows, the blue of his eyes almost swallowed whole by his pupils. His cheeks are red, and he grins at John when he reaches up to tug his shirt open, all cocksure and confident.</p><p>"Christ, Arthur. Look good like this," John pants, planting one hand on Arthur's chest so he can stroke them both faster. "Want you to fuck me," he breathes, and it's the truth. He's gotten himself off more than once thinking about getting fucked by Arthur. Riding him. Letting Arthur pound him until he's so sore he can't ride a horse. </p><p>Arthur's eyes flutter closed, and he tugs John down and kisses him, hard. "Gonna. Ain't got time now, though. Tomorrow I'm plowin' you like a field, darlin'."</p><p>That makes John laugh, and then he gasps when Arthur's hand covers his own, squeezes his cock tight and strokes faster. He's liable to come at any moment.</p><p>Around them, the horses snuffle and snort and pay them no mind and a bird sings loudly. The fire is dying. To them, it's just Arthur and John, panting into each others mouths in a culmination of years of feelings and fondness.</p><p>John's hips are stuttering as he grinds into Arthur's hand and he's panting loudly and all it takes for him to come is Arthur breathing his name into his mouth.</p><p>He shoots all over Arthur's chest and Arthur strokes him through it, kisses him some more.</p><p>"C'mon, Arthur." He moves Arthur's hand, impatient, takes a hold of his cock.</p><p>Arthur's whole body tenses, and it's only a moment of John twisting his hand up and down his cock before he's coming, choking out John's name. John collapses forward, boneless, buries his face in Arthur's neck. They're both panting hard, chests heaving against each other.</p><p>"Jesus, John.'" Arthur's panting heavily.</p><p>Arthur's hands are stroking up and down John's back, underneath his opened shirt. John mouths at his neck, bites and sucks so there'll be a mark. When Arthur grabs two handfuls of John's backside, John squirms and picks himself up, laughing. </p><p>With a pointed look down at their sticky chests, John says, "I reckon we'll be needin' to wash again." </p><p>Arthur laughs once, then wiggles out of his shirt and hands it to John. "Mmm, tomorrow. Now I'm takin' you to bed, darlin'." </p><p>John shies at the pet name, doesn't look at Arthur when he helps him up, a little embarrassed about what's just occurred. Of course, Arthur notices this, and crowds into John's space, takes his face in both hands and kisses him. He smiles, and John's heart feels funny. Gently, Arthur takes his shirt out of John's hands and cleans his chest with it, then his own. </p><p>When Arthur offers his hand, John takes it, and follows him into the house. The fire went out sometime after dinner, John doesn't remember when. </p><p>John changes into sleep pants and climbs into bed, watches Arthur tug on a shirt in the moonlight streaming through the window. The smug bastard knows he's looking, and gives him a wink when he crawls over to John. "Enjoy the show, Johnny?"</p><p>"Aw, shut up." John's embarrassed. Does Arthur already regret everything? Was it just a joke to him, or a way to get a quick fuck on a lonely mountain night? "I wasn't- I weren't lookin'." </p><p>"Hey, none o' that." Arthur settles himself under the blanket and tugs John towards him. "I like that you were lookin'."</p><p>"None o' what?" </p><p>Arthur's arm slips around John's waist, arranges him so his head's resting on Arthur's shoulder and he's pressed up against his side. "You're gettin' sheepish. I c'n tell."</p><p>"I just-" John trails off. It's easier, not having to look at Arthur, but he's still not good with saying what he means. "I don't want you to regret anythin', or feel like I-"</p><p>The arm around his waist tightens. "John. Know you ain't as dumb as ya look. When have I ever done somethin' I don't wanna do?"</p><p>"Do you want an honest answer?" John feels a smile creeping onto his face. "Cause I rec-"</p><p>"You ain't ever been one to give an honest answer, don't start on my account," Arthur says, and John feels him leaning, feels his lips press against the top of his head. "I don't regret nothin', and tomorrow we're workin' on the horses and goin' huntin' and I'm fuckin' you boneless. Simple as that, darlin'." </p><p>"Can't argue with that, I guess." </p><p>"Ohh, you can argue with just about anythin'. I've seen it." </p><p>John laughs a little. Grows quiet. After a while, he speaks up. "Arthur?"</p><p>"Hm?" </p><p>"This... this is real, ain't it?"</p><p>"This?" Arthur echoes. "I reckon this is the realest thing I've had in a while, John." </p><p>"Oh. Good." </p><p>Arthur kisses the top of his head again. "C'mon, now. Go to sleep."</p><p>So John does.</p><p>It rains the next day, and they sleep in and Arthur calls John darling and fucks him nice and slow. Afterwards he makes them breakfast and they share it in bed together and spend the day lazing around, kissing and grinning at each other like fools.</p><p>It's the best day John's had in a long time.</p><p>When they leave the ranch, head off to fetch Hosea for whatever scheme he's cracked up to sell the horses, John's riding the paint stallion and Arthur's riding the brown dapple mare. They ride side by side through the valley, feet bumping in their stirrups and at one point Arthur brings his mare to a stop and John does the same and Arthur grabs him by the collar and kisses him. John has to dismount some time later to retrieve their hats from the ground. </p><p>After a while, as they approach Lake Don Julio, Arthur speaks up. "Think I got a name for this here gal. Big brute like her needs a warrior's name. Somethin' like Boadicea. How's that, pretty lady? Like it, Bo'?" </p><p>John shakes his head and laughs. "Think Bo' can beat this boy in a race, then? Back to camp?" </p><p>"Just promise you won't take the loss too sorely, darlin'." Arthur's grin is lopsided, cocksure. </p><p>Laughing, John spurs his stallion and takes off, and he hears Arthur take off right behind him. They kick up dust as they go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>don't forget to give kudos and leave a comment! :))</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>